


Atrocious Taste

by orphan_account



Series: Homestuck Drone Season 2014 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, for the last fucking time, I am not letting you pick the film for movie night again,” you snap, grabbing the DVD case of <i>Batman & Robin</i> out of Jake’s hands. You have suffered through enough horrible superhero films, five weeks’ worth of awful, poorly-acted, cheesy-dialogue-filled shit. Yes, movie night is only once a week, but the atrocity of each film is enough to stick with you until the next one. Five movies together still represents over ten hours of your life that you could have spent biting your fingernails, fighting an endless battle to subdue your hair into something slightly less unruly looking (not that you'd ever admit that to anyone), or masturbating while thinking about Jake English’s soft belly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atrocious Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freudianity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freudianity/gifts).



> _Write me a Karkat/Jake black enough to fill the night sky, pitch enough to play football on. Make them awful stupid fuckups who can't get anything right but somehow sexy things emerge._

“No, for the last fucking time, I am not letting you pick the film for movie night again,” you snap, grabbing the DVD case of _Batman & Robin_ out of Jake’s hands. You have suffered through enough horrible superhero films, five weeks’ worth of awful, poorly-acted, cheesy-dialogue-filled shit. Yes, movie night is only once a week, but the atrocity of each film is enough to stick with you until the next one. Five movies together still represents over ten hours of your life that you could have spent biting your fingernails, fighting an endless battle to subdue your hair into something slightly less unruly looking (not that you'd ever admit that to anyone), or masturbating while thinking about Jake English’s soft belly.

You shouldn’t like anything about Jake, but not only is his personality infuriating in the most caliginous way (helped in part by his unabashed enthusiasm for terrible movies), he’s softer than any of the other humans. Trolls tend to be wiry and muscular, with you being much more towards the skinny end than most, but Jake’s full-figured, though not _fat_ , with a generous stomach, beefy limbs, and an innocently rounded face. The combination of it all is undeniably appealing.

_No, get that shit out of your mind right now. This is not the time to think about how much you want to punch Jake in the face and rip his clothes off, not while you need to focus on keeping the movie away from him._

Jake follows you as you jump back a few paces, trying to snatch the movie back. He’s short compared with most of his sex and species, but you’re even shorter (though not by much). Unfortunately this means you can’t just hold it up over your head, but have to keep scooting backwards, dodging chairs and squiddle plushies and other nonsense left by eight humans and four trolls who for some godawful reason still share the same small computer lab as a common room. But you have to keep doing your best not to let him close his hands around his precious, abysmal movie.

“C’mon, don’t be a poor sport about it,” Jake protests. “It’s not my fault that your friends clearly prefer my taste over yours. I was elected to run movie night and you weren’t! It’s tough cookies but you can at least be a gentleman about it and return my film to me!”

“This doesn’t qualify as _film_ ; this is nothing but garbage. If even _Dave_ was kind enough to warn me about how bad it is, I know it’s got to be fucking awful.”

“Oh, the Striders have such amusing tastes, what with their irony and all. I can’t quite keep tabs on the layers, to be honest, but chances are he was just joshing you in some sense. “

Your ass bumps into the ledge and you nearly put your elbow through a computer screen as Jake closes in.

“Besides, what would you have us watch instead?” he continues, holding out his hand for the movie. As if you're just going to give up because you're cornered, with his abdomen nearly bumping up against yours and one of his bare feet brushing against one of your sock-clad ones. “ _The Lake House_? You heard Roxy and Rose sniggering about that as much as I did.”

Your loathing chambers pulse with a fresh wave of fury. He fucking went there. How dare he of all people question your taste in movies?

Immediately, you rip open the DVD case and pull the movie out, flinging the empty case at him. He grabs instinctively, giving you just enough time to snatch the disk with both hands and snap it in two.

“What in the dickens was that for?” Jake exclaims, forcefully prying the pieces out of your hands. The sharp edges drag along your skin and you’re slightly surprised they don’t draw blood. He looks down at the DVD, looking momentarily forlorn before his eyebrows drop and he looks back to you with a scowl.

“That was a noble and selfless act,” you retort, “to protect my friends against yet another of your atrocious movies.”

“Hogwash!”

“I don't know what the fuck that's supposed to mean but I'm going to assume it's synonymous with bullshit and you know what, it half is. That's part of it, but first and foremost I'm trying to preserve my own fucking sanity.”

“You know, Mister Vantas -”

“Don't fucking call me that,” you interrupt, looking up the goddamn two inches he has over you and loathing every atom of it.

“ _Mister Vantas_ ,” he repeats forcefully, “I consider myself an easygoing fellow and I get along with well near everyone.”

“Only because you're too stupid to realize when people actually loathe you. So let me spell it out for you: I loathe you!”

“You also won't stop goshdarn interrupting! Most people like me, and I like them, but I find myself rather disliking you, to be quite frank. And make jabs at my people skills all you fancy, but I'll have you know that I have a very strong suspicion that the feeling is mutual.”

“You've solved the great mystery! Call Jane and Terezi to let them know their investigation skills aren’t needed any more; alert the press – we have a new sleuth in town who has just an _uncanny_ knack for getting into people's heads.”

“Scratch that, I _know_ the feeling is mutual.” Jake grabs the collar of your shirt and twists, the cloth tightening around your neck, not dangerously so but enough to emphasize the severity of the situation. You don't look away from his emerald eyes behind those thick, clunky-looking glasses as you reply.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” You exhale heavily, desperate for him to just fucking kiss you already. When he doesn't, eyes on you but hesitating to close that final inch, you do it yourself, mashing your lips against his.

Whether from surprise or from eagerness, Jake parts his lips, letting you flick your tongue against the inside of them, feeling the softness of his flesh, the smoothness of his teeth. His teeth are so dull compared to a troll's. Your hands surrender the table edge to grab his hips and you’re pleasantly rewarded by the feeling of his ample love handles. You love the shape of the curves over the waistband of his shorts, and how wonderfully soft they are in your grasp.

Jake's hands still clutch your collar, even pulling you more insistently to discourage your mouth from leaving his. You can feel his erection thicken against your thigh, and with that final, clear sign of desire, yours quickly does the same. Now that the tension has been broken, you’re viciously desperate for anything and everything, right the fuck now.

You nip at his upper lip, tongue flicking against the tender flesh as you gently bite. If he wasn't a human, you'd do so much more, but you don't want to scare him off. To your surprise, he makes a soft but unmistakably needy noise into your mouth as you do so, rutting against you. He wants more.

Well, you want a lot of things you can't fucking have, so instead of tearing into him, if he's yearning for more, maybe you'll just tease him. You slide your fingers under the edges of his shirt, gently caressing his sides as you keep kissing him enthusiastically but not harshly. He releases your collar to slide his hands down, running along your bony clavicles, your shoulders, your sides, and right down to your waist. His hands are larger and less agile than yours, but you nearly moan at the warmth as he forces one between your bodies to run along your stomach, brushing against your hip bone and coming in to rest very close to your fly. To your chagrin, he doesn't make any move further. Whether he's retaliating or whether he's uncertain if you want him to do more is unclear, so you pull your lips away.

“Don't just stop there,” you snap.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asks. If it was any other goddamn person, you'd assume they were being coy, but the look in his stupid, vibrant eyes is horrifyingly oblivious. You grab his hand and shove it lower, his palm bumping up against your erection and his fingers touching the button of your fly.

“I mean I think you're an idiot and I want to shut you up by shoving my bulge in your mouth, but I can't do that with pants on, you shitlamp.”

“Good golly, are you quite serious?”

“Yes, I'm fucking serious.” You press his hand against your body harder, thrusting a bit to emphasize your erection against his hand. You could really fucking do without your jeans and boxers in the way. “Anything to shut you up.”

“The way you're putting it, you make it sound like this is something for me,” Jake replies. Despite his words, the way he starts to move his hand up and down, rubbing the length of your painfully hard bulge, makes it clear he's taking your proposition seriously. “You sure know how to make a fellow feel special, don't you, framing everything as a jab!”

You growl and thrust a hand into his hair, feeling the stiff, dried gel that gives it the horrendously silly look he sports every day. As you close your fingers into a fist, Jake gasps, “Great galloping gumdrops,” and the sheer stupidity of it, the way he says it in a deep, irredeemably goofy voice, is too much. You slap him with your other hand (while you thrust into his hand, and you hate that you love to hate him this much), and this time the sound out of his mouth is preciously wordless, a higher-pitched “Oh!” that's euphony to your ears.

He closes his hand around your bulge the best he can through the fabric and kisses you again, a fierce battle of lips and teeth that hurts just enough to satisfy your desire to beat the shit out of him. So much for teasing him; that was a dumb idea anyway. You've wasted over a month with your charade; why keep playing hard to get when you could have him touch you? Or suck on you, you think as he flicks his tongue against yours.

Finally, Jake slips his hand up a bit and pulls the button free, then fumbles with your zipper. You fuck his mouth with your tongue as he does so, pressing in as deep as you can as his own tongue runs along yours, enthusiastic but yielding to your aggression. With your still-smarting hand, you reach down to the edge of your pants and boxers, taking them together to pull down off your hips. Jake helps, and a moment later, it's now your bare ass against the edge of the table and, more importantly, your bulge is completely exposed. You let your hand rest on your naked thigh as Jake wraps his hand around your shaft, wasting no time to explore or tease you but immediately squeezing you and sending stars through your vision.

You're struck by a pang of shyness, but it's muffled by your lust and your anger that Jake is still wearing shorts. You release his hair so that you can shove up the edge of his shirt, unfasten his fly, and pull his shorts and briefs down in one fell swoop. They fall past his knees and you pull your mouth from his, shifting back as far as you can so you can take a quick look.

Jake, conceited moron that he is, opens his mouth as if to ask why you stopped before noticing you pointedly eyeing him. Your gaze lowers slowly, and you pull up the edge of his shirt to marvel at the ridiculous little indentation in the middle of his stomach. For all the similarities of troll and human anatomy, that's one you lack. It has a soft-looking corona of dark hair, which continues in a trail downwards until it flares out again above his thick, firm-looking bulge – phallus, dick, whatever. Lower, his shame globes – balls – are nestled between his large, surprisingly bare thighs. You'd never really thought about his lack of leg hair, but now juxtaposed with his abdomen, it's quite obvious.

“Don't humans grow leg hair?”

“Well yes, but after mine burned off, I decided I rather liked it.”

“That's stupid,” you blurt in reply. It looks silly to you, even though intellectually you realize that's probably complete nonsense, an arbitrary preference based in nothing. “But that's not surprising, because everything about you is stupid. That's why you're so fucking loathsome.”

Jake chortles and you release the edge of his shirt to reach around and firmly grab his ass. It's meaty and ample, plenty to hold on to, and you squeeze it appreciatively, digging into his skin a bit with your nails. He groans and bucks his hips towards you, as if simultaneously trying to escape the pain and to get some stimulation as his cock is pressed against yours.

“Jake?” Roxy’s voice materializes out of nowhere, sending a cold jolt of panic down your spine. As you see her appear on the transportalizer, you release him immediately scrambling to pull up your pants, cheeks burning. You fucking _moron_ \- everyone was waiting for movie night, of course someone would come try to find you. “I thought we were - Whoaaaa. I’m just gonna, go now. Yeah.”

You hear the familiar zap as Roxy apparently steps right back onto the pad and disappears again. It doesn’t help your embarrassment; if anything, it makes it worse, knowing she was so horrified she left immediately. Then again, wouldn’t you be horrified if you walked in to see Jake’s hairy ass as he rubbed bulges with some other idiot?

“Fucking-” you begin, but Jake swallows your long string of curses, grabbing your hips again. Your bulge is still hard, but you’re too horrified by the interruption to let him continue on his merry way.

“What the shitting hell do you think you’re doing?” you protest, breaking the kiss to his obvious chagrin.

“Well we can’t change what Roxy saw, and I’m sure she’ll pass along that we’re not to be interrupted, so we may as well get on with it.” He thrusts towards you further for emphasis, the length of his cock sliding against yours. You burn with desire, shame, and the unbearable knowledge that he has a point.

The messy combination of those emotions drives you to recklessly dive back in, digging your nails into his scalp until he yelps as you sink into the sensation of his dick against yours. You never thought you could hate Jake more, but it seems that he’s even more loathsome when he’s _right_.


End file.
